


The One That Loves Me

by phoenixwings



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Fluff, M/M, Makeup Sex, NSFW Victuuri Week day 4, Tender Sex, they are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixwings/pseuds/phoenixwings
Summary: “I’m scared,” Victor finally admits, not meeting Yuuri’s eyes, “If this is my last season. . . I don’t want to disappoint my fans. I don’t want to disappoint you.”Yuuri stares at him for a moment, not sure he’s comprehending what he’s hearing correctly. Victor Nikiforov, the one figure skater Yuuri has looked up to since childhood, disappoint him? Victor Nikiforov, the living legend? Victor Nikiforov, the coach that finally got Yuuri to tap into new parts of himself and his capabilities? Victor Nikiforov-Katsuki, his husband? Victor is so many things to Yuuri, but a disappointment could never be one.Yuuri’s not always very good at saying what he’s feeling, but this is important, so he tampers down the anxiety that he’s about to say something monumentally embarrassing and tells Victor, “Your skating could never disappoint me.Youcould never disappoint me.”





	The One That Loves Me

**Author's Note:**

> -I wrote something! For the first time in two months. Un-beta'd, so all mistakes my own because I wrote this in one day (since I was already a day late for the prompt I wanted to write).  
> -Written for NSFW Victuuri Week, day 4: free day (make-up sex)  
> -Title comes from A B & The Sea's song "Lucky", which is the most Victuuri song if I ever did hear one.

Normally, Yuuri enjoys the apartment he shares with Victor. Transitioning from thinking of himself not as a guest but as a resident was hard, but over the past few months they had picked out new furniture and slowly their apartment was becoming a shared home. They had converted the second bedroom into a study of sorts, which Yuuri had set up with a computer for gaming and Victor had put up a large bulletin board where he could sketch and pin up ideas for choreography. They both had a tendency to retreat to the study when they needed some space. They had learned early on that living and skating together, as exciting as it was, meant they were together _all the time_. A place where they both felt free to go and shut the door for awhile was necessary.  
  
Today, however, even sitting at his computer in the study, Yuuri feels like the apartment is suffocatingly small. It’s too cold, too clinical. He and Victor had an argument last night, and now everything feels wrong. They had both been silent all morning, the tension in the air heavy between them.  At the rink, when Yuuri had suggested they taken a lunch break, Victor had frowned and said simply, “I’m going to keep skating.”  
  
“Fine,” Yuuri had snapped, and walked away to convince Yuri and Mila to grab lunch with him at the deli around the corner from the rink.  
  
They’d barely talked since then.    
  
Yuuri knows they’re both being stubborn. He knows, he knows. But it’s hard for him to see past that when the anger that had bubbled over last night had come from a place of deep worry. Victor is pushing himself too hard, and he won’t listen to anyone. He’s been dropping hints about it maybe being his last season for awhile now, and he’s convinced he has to go out with a bang. Yuuri would expect nothing less, and he wants to encourage that drive for excellence. That is, after all, why Yuuri has always admired Victor in the first place. But Victor’s current method of pushing himself to stay later, not taking rest days seriously, and skipping lunch to keep practicing are making Yuuri fret, and he’s not the only one. Even Georgi has commented on it, and lately Georgi’s been difficult to talk to about anything that’s not a Harlequin romance novel.  
  
If only Yuuri could get that through Victor’s thick skull.  
  
Yuuri hears the door shut and he tenses. He glances at the clock on his computer — it’s almost an hour and a half past when they normally leave the rink. He weighs his options. He could stay in the study, mindlessly clicking around on his computer and give them both time to cool off. Victor won’t seek him out as long as he’s in here. But Yuuri doesn’t want Victor to think that he’s punishing him or intentionally giving him the cold shoulder. He’s still annoyed, but his anger has cooled, and he wants his husband. But Yuuri doesn’t know how Victor feels, if he’s still mad or upset or not ready to talk.  
  
Yuuri pads into the kitchen. There’s a bouquet of flowers on the kitchen table and Yuuri’s mouth goes dry. He flicks his eyes to the wall calendar that hangs near the refrigerator. It’s Wednesday. He hadn’t even remembered. Months ago, Victor had gone out for dinner with some old friends and Yuuri had declined the invitation, saying he was too tired from practice and Victor should go without him. He hadn’t been up to meeting new people at the time. When Victor came home, he’d presented Yuuri with an arrangement of flowers. Yuuri had laughed and teased, “What’s the special occasion?”  
  
“It’s Wednesday and I’m so happy to be married to you,” Victor had replied, immediately pulling Yuuri into an embrace. Yuuri had poked his side and thanked him and called him a sap, which made them both laugh. The next Wednesday, Victor had come home with yet another handful of flowers, and Yuuri asked the same question and got the same response. Since then, it’s been a tradition. Every Wednesday, Yuuri gets another floral arrangement. Every Wednesday, Victor tells Yuuri how happy he is.  
  
Victor’s at the microwave, heating up some sort of frozen dinner, and Yuuri clears his throat. Victor turns around. “Hey,” He says softly.  
  
“Hi,” Yuuri says back, feeling suddenly shy. “What’s the special occasion?” He asks his usual question, even though he’s afraid he won’t get the same response. They’ve barely talked all day, and it’s hard for Yuuri to think that at the moment, Victor likes being married to him.  
  
“It’s Wednesday,” Victor murmurs, “And I’m so happy to be married to you.”  
  
“Yeah?” Yuuri asks, stepping forward cautiously. He desperately wants to feels Victor’s arms around him, holding him, cherishing him, but he doesn’t know if Victor’s ready for that yet after their argument. Victor’s always been so good at respecting Yuuri’s personal space, and Yuuri doesn’t want to invade Victor’s space if Victor would still prefer to be left alone to cool down. He can’t deny he’s missed Victor’s normal affection the entire day, though. He’s missed the good morning forehead kiss and holding hands at lunch and walking back from the rink with Victor’s arms around his shoulders. He’s never noticed how much and how casually they tend to touch each other, and how much he craves that affection.    
  
“Of course,” Victor replies, voice steadier. Then, in a rush he lets out, “Yuuri, I’m so sorry.”  
  
Yuuri’s self-control breaks and he throws his arms around Victor, pulling him in close, and something inside him settles as soon as Victor’s arms come up around his back. “I’m so sorry too,” Yuuri says, more into the fabric of Victor’s shirt than anything, but Victor seems to hear. Victor rubs soothing circles across Yuuri’s back. “I was worried about you.”  
  
The microwave beeps and Yuuri reluctantly disentangles himself. Victor pulls out the flimsy plastic tray and stirs the mess of chicken, vegetables, and noodles in front of him together. He moves to the table and Yuuri joins him, even though he had dinner hours ago. “Yakov talked to me,” Victor finally says after a few bites, “We. . . Well, I sort of fought with him too. But he made me see how stubborn I was being. I think his exact words were ‘self-defeating’.  And I know it hasn’t been very fair to you. Or him. Or even Yura, for that matter. I’ve been kind of a . . .” Yuuri raises his eyebrows. “A jerk,” Victor finishes.  
  
Yuuri reaches across the table for Victor’s unoccupied hand and squeezes gently. Victor isn’t wrong in his self-assessment, but Yuuri gets it. He’s no stranger to how insecurities can spur people into acting in ways they don’t like. Victor’s supported him through enough of his internal crises to know that.  “We’ve all been so worried about _you_ ,” Yuuri says.  
  
“I’m scared,” Victor finally admits, not meeting Yuuri’s eyes, “If this is my last season. . . I don’t want to disappoint my fans. I don’t want to disappoint you.”  
  
Yuuri stares at him for a moment, not sure he’s comprehending what he’s hearing correctly. Victor Nikiforov, the one figure skater Yuuri has looked up to since childhood, disappoint him? Victor Nikiforov, the living legend? Victor Nikiforov, the coach that finally got Yuuri to tap into new parts of himself and his capabilities? Victor Nikiforov-Katsuki, his husband? Victor is so many things to Yuuri, but a disappointment could never be one.  
  
Yuuri’s not always very good at saying what he’s feeling, but this is important, so he tampers down the anxiety that he’s about to say something monumentally embarrassing and tells Victor, “Your skating could never disappoint me. _You_ could never disappoint me.”  
  
Victor looks up at that. “Yeah?” He asks, repeating Yuuri’s question from earlier.  
  
“Yes,” Yuuri says adamantly. Victor makes a noise from the back of his throat that Yuuri can’t quite interpret. Victor pushes the little that’s left on his plate away and walks around the table until he’s standing in between Yuuri’s legs. Yuuri reaches up and cradles Victor’s head, bringing them close together. “I love you,” He murmurs, before pulling Victor into a kiss. It’s only been a day since their last kiss, if that, but Yuuri’s still feels the need to make up for loss time. He feels a deep ache all the sudden, a sort of meshing of melancholy and joy that he gets to have this for the rest of his life and he never wants to miss out on another moment of it because he’s not even sure a lifetime of Victor’s lips on his is enough.  
  
Victor climbs clumsily into Yuuri’s lap. The kitchen chairs aren’t really built for this sort of thing and Yuuri has to brace Victor with his knees to keep them from both falling over, but it’s worth it to feel Victor tangle his fingers in Yuuri’s hair and to hear the happy moans that rumble deep in Victor’s chest. Victor surges forward and the chair does rock a little, startling both of them. They break away and Victor giggles. “Let’s go to bed,” He suggests.  
  
The break from each other is brief, just long enough for Victor to gently nudge Makkachin out of the room and pet her for a few minutes before he’s back in Yuuri’s arms. Victor collapses on the bed first, pulling Yuuri down with him. Victor moves to take off his shirt, but Yuuri stops him. “Let me,” Yuuri says, voice low and silky. He doesn’t want Victor to do any of the work tonight. Yuuri wants to take care of him. He undresses Victor slowly, reverently. Falling into bed together is so frequent and common now that generally the space between them is filled with light-hearted teasing and laughter, but tonight is different. The same fire of desire that’s always there thrums deep inside Yuuri, but he feels unhurried.  
  
“You’re overdressed,” Victor complains when he’s lying naked below Yuuri. Yuuri complies with Victor’s silent request, tossing everything off except his boxers without much ceremony. He shifts down so he’s even with Victor’s feet. He takes Victor’s right leg and kisses at the ankle. It’s tender to the touch, and it’s just another sign of how hard Victor has been pushing himself. Yuuri doesn’t move on to the other side until he’s felt satisfied that he’s covered every inch of skin with his love. He leaves a line of open-mouth kisses up Victor’s calf and runs his hands over Victor’s abdomen as he does so. Victor’s hard and already leaking a little by the time Yuuri reaches the juncture of Victor’s hips, but Yuuri ignores it for the moment, and for once, Victor seems willing to be patient too. Yuuri kisses up, up, up the plane of Victor’s stomach, stopping to pay special attention to Victor’s nipples, which are always so sensitive. He teases at them lightly with his tongue, and he’s rewarded when Victor hisses sharply.  
  
Victor always makes Yuuri feel adored, cherished, beloved, and Victor deserves to feel that way too. Yuuri isn’t as quick with his words as Victor is. Endearments don’t fall from his mouth as easily. He constantly over-thinks and second guesses romantic gestures that Victor makes seem so casual. But here in the dark and quiet, with no one else around, Yuuri can show Victor how he feels in the language that’s just between them. He feels the need to prove what he said about Victor never being a disappointment. He wants Victor to know the depth of Yuuri’s feelings for him.  
  
Yuuri moves up to Victor’s neck, sucking at the tender spot that never fails to make Victor moan. He nuzzles into Victor’s side before he reaches up and tips his husband’s chin up. Victor looks at him with an expression that looks like awe, and Yuuri still doesn’t know what he did to deserve that look but he wants to be worthy of it. He kisses Victor at the same time wraps a hand around Victor’s erection and he’s extremely gratified by Victor’s gasp. The kiss gets messy fast, with Victor panting against his mouth, so Yuuri keeps it short and starts kissing the skin he’s already brushed with his lips again, this time going downward. He reaches with his free hand and cups Victor’s balls, rolling them gently, and Victor’s hips lift upwards, seeking more friction.  
  
Yuuri kisses more around Victor’s hips before finally licking a long stroke up from the base of his cock. Victor mutter something—a curse in Russian, if Yuuri has to guess— and Yuuri smirks before slowly lowers his mouth over Victor’s cock and sucks softly. Yuuri knows exactly what Victor likes, so he makes sure to flick his tongue over the slit often and curl his hand just right and it’s not long at all before Victor completely loses any composure he had left. Victor leaks into his mouth and Yuuri licks up the pre-come with kitten licks to the head of Victor’s cock, flicking his eyes upward often to search Victor’s face. Yuuri knows nothing gets Victor more heated than that.  
  
“Yuuri, Yuuri,” Victor groans out as Yuuri works him over with his mouth and hands. “Wait, wait,” Victor says after just a few minutes, and Yuuri pulls away. Yuuri wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and then cups Victor’s cheek with his clean one.  
  
“What is it, Vitya?” Yuuri asks sweetly.  
  
“I want you, Yuuri, please,” Victor pleads. Yuuri’s been proud of himself for keeping himself together up to this point, but he can’t help but to whimper a bit at that and has to squeeze his own erection through his boxers to take some of the pressure off. Yuuri reaches over and grabs their frequently used bottle of lube from the the night stand.  
  
“You have me,” Yuuri promises when he settles back in between Victor’s knees. Victor grabs one of their many extra pillows — because Yuuri has learned that Victor has very specific sleep needs and one of those is a mountain of pillows that individually cost more than Yuuri’s entire bedroom set he’d had in Detroit — and wiggles it under his hips. Victor spreads his legs obligingly as Yuuri lets the lube warm up on his fingers for a few seconds.  
  
“Just like this, please,” Victor says, “I want to see you.”  
  
“Of course,” Yuuri says, leaning forward, unable to keep from kissing Victor again and again. “Whatever you want.” This night is suppose to be about Victor, after all.  
  
They’ve done this enough that normally this part is quick. One, two fingers is all Victor normally needs, though when it’s Yuuri in his position it takes a bit longer. Still, for both of them, they’ve got a routine down. It’s never boring, but it’s also not the main event. Yuuri doesn’t want to rush through this tonight, though.  
  
“How’s that?” Yuuri asks, when he has the first finger all the way in. Victor’s still, but it’s obviously taking some effort.  
  
“Good, good,” Victor encourages, and Yuuri smiles against Victor’s thigh as he crooks his finger just so to hit Victor’s prostate.  
  
“Yuuri!” Victor exclaims, one hand flying to his mouth to stifle his shout. Yuuri doesn’t want to tease, so he adds another finger and stretches. Victor whimpers, but Yuuri can’t tell if it’s pain or pleasure.  
  
“Still good?” Yuuri asks and Victor nods, rolling his hips down and riding back on Yuuri’s fingers. Yuuri bends them again and Yuuri can see the flashes of pleasure roll across his husband’s face. Victor’s brow furrows in intense concentration and he lets out a longing sigh.  
  
“I’m ready, Yuuri, please,” Victor says, fumbling wildly for Yuuri’s free hand. Yuuri tangles their fingers together and brings Victor’s hand up to his lip. He sucks gently on Victor’s ring finger for just a few seconds before placing a tender kiss Victor’s gold wedding band. Victor’s breath hitches and it makes Yuuri feel like his own gets caught in his throat. How, oh how, did Yuuri ever get lucky enough to end up with this?  
  
Yuuri slowly removes his fingers and maneuvers the two of them so they’re face to face. He reaches back for the lube. It’s a bit hard to do with only one hand, but Victor seems unwilling to let Yuuri’s other hand go, so Yuuri ends up using his teeth to pop open the bottle cap, and they both giggle with it slips from Yuuri’s hands and some of the lube spills on Yuuri’s thighs. Eventually Yuuri manages to slick himself up, throwing his head back at the intense pleasure even that small contact gets him, especially knowing it’s about to get so much better.  
  
Yuuri takes his time while Victor gets used to the stretch. “Perfect,” He breathes when he’s all the in, and Victor’s already red face flushes further at the praise. He gives a testing roll of his hips and Victor’s eyes lid over in pleasure. Even though they’ve done this time and time again, the feel of being inside Victor is indescribable. It’s not just the way Victor feels tight and hot around him, but it’s also Victor’s strong legs wrapped around him, it’s their hands tangled together,  it’s the way Victor gets so into it and the pleasure Yuuri feels at knowing he’s the one making Victor feel good.  
  
“More, please, Yuuri, more,” Victor encourages Yuuri in-between their moans and whimpers, and Yuuri is powerless to deny Victor whatever he wants. Yuuri wants Victor to feel euphoric. He wants Victor to feel better than he’s ever felt. It’s a tall order, Yuuri thinks a little smugly, because Victor’s been very vocal about telling Yuuri how amazing he is in bed, but Yuuri has never backed down from a challenge.  
  
Every part of Yuuri feels heated and sweat drips down from his forehead onto Victor’s chest, which is flushed red and makes Yuuri want to kiss all that skin all over again. Yuuri picks up the pace, repeating any motion that gets a shout that Victor muffles into his hand. Yuuri’s close, so close, but he’s not ready to let Victor go yet. If he had the energy to talk, there’s so many things he wants to tell his husband. He wants to tell Victor how gorgeous he looks right now, how wonderful he is to Yuuri, how much Yuuri loves him. Yuuri doesn’t have the words, but Victor looks at him so openly and fondly that Yuuri knows if he looks even a tenth in love as Victor does, then there’s no way Victor doesn’t know.  
  
Yuuri snakes his free hand in between their bodies and wraps it around Victor’s cock. He spreads the pre-come down the shaft and circles his hand around it.  Yuuri’s pretty sure that Victor’s close, and he’s right. Victor’s orgasm seems to hit him hard, his back arching up from the mattress and he shouts Yuuri’s name. Yuuri strokes him through the tremors until Victor’s breath has steadied out and Yuuri can tell he’s getting too sensitive. Victor beams at him, then reaches up for another kiss, and that’s enough to send Yuuri following over the edge.  
  
They fall back against the bed, Yuuri collapsing on top of Victor before rolling to the side so Victor can get his breath back. Victor reaches out and smooths his thumb over Yuuri’s jaw.  
  
“Wow,” Victor whispers, “If that’s what happens when we argue, maybe we should do it more often.”  
  
Yuuri smiles, because he knows Victor isn’t serious, but he still can’t help but to say, “I don’t think so. I missed out on too many kisses today.”  
  
“You did, didn’t you?” Victor agrees. “I’ll have to make it up to you. Starting now.” He kisses Yuuri’s forehead, then his cheek, then his jaw, and then finally a chaste, fleeting kiss on the lips.  
  
“There’s interest involved, you know,” Yuuri says. “A ten percent rate.”  He knows they’ve made a mess. They should get up, strip the sheets, take a shower. Yuuri also finds he’s not ready to leave the warmth between them yet.  
  
“Ten percent seems awfully high,” Victor counters. “But then I do get the privilege of kissing you every day, so I can’t complain.”  
  
Yuuri blushes. “I can’t believe you just go around saying stuff like that.” Yuuri really should believe it. He knows that most of Victor’s knowledge of romance comes from romance novels of all different sorts and what Victor has referred to as “the golden days of romantic comedy movies”. At least once a month Victor mourns the death of that particular genre. Once, in a fit of confidence, Yuuri had told Victor he wasn’t sure what he was so upset about since their relationship was pretty much straight out of a romantic comedy. Victor had beamed at him and tackled him to the couch Octopus-style to cuddle.  
  
“It’s true,” Victor counters.  
  
Yuuri knows better than to argue with that. He pats Victor’s side. With a hefty sigh, he says, “C’mon, we should go clean up.”  
  
Victor grumbles, but recovers when Yuuri promises to let Victor wash his hair in the shower. The mussed sheets go straight into the washer, and once they’ve got the clean bedding on they let Makkachin back into the room, who eagerly jumps up on the bed with them. It takes difficulty to arrange two grown men and a standard poodle in a bed every night, but they manage.  
  
“Tomorrow’s a rest day,” Victor reminds Yuuri.  
  
“Mm-hmm,” Yuuri agrees, already half-asleep.  
  
“I’m going to take it. A real rest day.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“It’s been a long time since we’ve gone out,” Victor says.  
  
“We’ve been busy,” Yuuri mumbles into his pillow, wondering where his husband is going with this.  
  
“Will you go on a date with me?”  
  
Yuuri opens his eyes, peering up at Victor. “Of course,” Yuuri answers. He can’t imagine ever saying no to that request.  
  
“I’m excited,” Victor says, and his constant enthusiasm is so contagious it cuts through Yuuri’s sleepiness. Yuuri doesn’t feel the need to answer, but he smiles and Victor grins at him. He kisses Yuuri on the forehead again. “I’ll start paying off my debt then.” Yuuri's looking forward to it. He might even angle for an increased interest rate. 

**Author's Note:**

> [come chat with me about these dorks in love on Tumblr.](https://burningphoenixwings.tumblr.com)


End file.
